The Mistletoe Protocol
by Batwings79
Summary: What happens when conflicting traditions and clashing styles have the stoic butler of Downton Abbey at the mercy of three little Ladies of the house? Leave it to his housekeeper to ride to the rescue with "The Mistletoe Protocol."
1. 1902

_**A/N: This story was originally written for the 2011 Downton Abbey Mistletoe Challenge. I've included it here as Chapter 1 to provide background and continuity for any future chapters.**_

* * *

 **The Mistletoe Protocol**

Mrs. Hughes was working in her parlor trying to finish up the few accounting tasks that fell to her each month before going to check on the preparations for the festivities happening later in the evening. During the week leading up to Christmas, it was tradition at Downton to hold several dinner parties and social events beginning with the installation of the Christmas tree and decking the halls. This was a tradition that her Ladyship had brought with her from America where family participation...especially of the children…was deemed of special importance in the celebration. The butler, Mr. Carson, and the footmen were upstairs working to affix the tree and hang the wreaths and swags in advance of the decorative pieces that the 'children' – Lady Mary, age 9; Lady Edith, age 7; and Lady Sybil, age 5 – would place with the assistance of their parents later in the evening.

It was her third try at adding the long column of numbers scratched into the ledger in Mr. Carson's spidery script when she finally noticed that she was humming along to a small choir of voices outside in the servants' hallway.

 _Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green,  
Here we come a-wand'ring so fair to be seen.  
Love and joy come to you and to you your wassail, too,  
And God bless you, and send you a Happy New Year,  
And God send you a Happy New Year!_

She rose from her desk chair and opened her parlor door a crack to peek out and see what the ruckus was. There she spied the three young Ladies of the house leading Mr. Carson down the hallway towards the servants' dining room where they came to a stop and finished the last chorus at the tops of their lungs. She couldn't help but smile as she pushed the door open and leaned against the doorframe.

Mr. Carson caught sight of her and pulled his shoulders back into his dignified butler personae before answering the quirk in her eyebrow, "The Ladies felt that it would only be fair to deck the servants' hall with the requisite mistletoe, same as above stairs, and decided that they would insure the installation themselves."

"We need to make certain that it is working properly," declared Lady Mary with a determined look on her face.

"Oh, of course, and I guess the first task is to hang the mistletoe in the appropriate place. Now, where would you recommend, Mr. Carson?" she asked with a flirtatious smirk on her face. "Above the door to the butler's pantry?"

"Hmph," he began clearing his throat and casting a pleading look from behind the girls.

He was saved when Lady Edith piped up, "That won't work!"

"Oh? And why not?" asked Mrs. Hughes innocently.

"Because nobody ever goes in there…except for you and Mr. Carson," she replied as if Mrs. Hughes should have recognized that fact for herself.

"Quite right," replied a solemn Mrs. Hughes nodding her head in agreement.

Lady Mary turned to look up and down the hall, "It's got to be someplace where everyone will walk through at some point."

"Everybody has to come here to eat in the dining room," came the quiet voice of the youngest member of the group.

"Good idea, Sybil," said Lady Mary looking above their heads at the top of the doorframe. "How can we get it up there?"

"If you will trust me, I may be of some assistance," said Mr. Carson bowing slightly to the young Ladies.

Lady Mary held out the bough of fir with the mistletoe fastened to it with a red velvet ribbon. Mr. Carson was the epitome of decorum, taking it from her with great care. He then stood and reached above his head to fasten the bough using the hooks that were hung above the doorframe to hold the mistletoe _every year_.

"There, that should do the job," he said brushing a few fallen fir needles from his white gloves.

"How will we find out if it is working properly?" asked Lady Sybil with the innocence of her age.

"Hmph," winking at Mrs. Hughes and clearing his throat again, "If I may be so bold, since Mrs. Hughes is here to chaperone, may I be of some assistance in _testing_ the mistletoe?"

The three young Ladies looked at each other and finally Lady Edith shrugged her shoulders and said, "He _is_ a boy!" Mrs. Hughes coughed slightly to hide the giggle that tried to escape in response.

Lady Mary seemed to hesitate a bit but finally agreed, "I guess it would be alright." She took Mr. Carson by the hand and led him to stand under the mistletoe where they both faced into the hallway where Mrs. Hughes stood with the other two girls. Mr. Carson stood solemnly at attention having a hard time keeping his face neutral. Lady Mary stood looking down at the floor, nervously scuffing one shoe along the floorboard.

"Mr. Carson," said Mrs. Hughes with a twinkle in her eye, "I believe it is customary for the boy to kiss the girl?"

"Right you are, Mrs. Hughes!" he said enthusiastically as he turned to smile down at Lady Mary. He then bent slowly at the waist and kissed her on the cheek causing her to blush and giggle. "Seems to be working just fine," he said straightening up.

"I'm not so sure, Mr. Carson," said Mrs. Hughes with a decidedly grim look on her face. "There was that long pause where you had forgotten the 'mistletoe protocol.' I think perhaps you should test it again," she said with a slight motion of her head in Lady Edith's direction.

"You may be right, Mrs. Hughes," he said holding out his hand, "Lady Edith, if you would be so kind?" Edith gave him a shy smile as she placed her small hand in his and allowed him to lead her under the mistletoe. As soon as they turned to face the hallway, he bent and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Beaming ear to ear, she looked up at him, "Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson."

"Happy Christmas to you too, Miss Edith," he said returning her grin.

"What about me?" exclaimed Lady Sybil feeling a bit left out.

"Not to worry, yours is to be the deciding kiss," soothed Mr. Carson.

"The deciding kiss?" asked Lady Sybil

"Yes, the third time is the charm, as they say," he replied taking hold of her hand and leading her under the mistletoe. She reached up her arms indicating that she wanted him to pick her up.

"Papa always holds me in his arms when he catches me under the mistletoe," she said expectantly.

"Mustn't upset the mistletoe protocol," he said as he reached down and boosted her up so she could place her arms around his neck. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and hugged him tightly. "Happy Christmas, Miss Sybil," he said quietly enjoying the warmth of her hug.

"It's your turn now, Mrs. Hughes," said Lady Sybil as he set her down on her feet.

Both Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes began to protest but it was the voice of Lady Mary that came through, "If he kisses _you_ , we'll know for sure that it's working properly."

Mrs. Hughes wasn't sure if she should take offense at the off-hand remark implying that he might not _want_ to kiss her, even under the mistletoe, but decided to ignore it and stepped up in front of him to claim her kiss. He didn't touch her with his hands but conveyed how very much he wanted to in the loving look that he gave her just before he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hughes," he said softly. Suddenly he felt a small hand on his wrist as Lady Sybil pushed his arm up around Mrs. Hughes' waist.

"Not like that!" exclaimed Lady Sybil. "Grown-ups put their arms around each other and kiss on the lips."

"I'm not sure that is appropriate," grumbled Mr. Carson beginning to wish that he'd never made his offer to the young Ladies.

"That's the way that Papa always kisses Mama when he catches her under the mistletoe," said Lady Edith emphatically while Lady Mary nodded her head hesitantly in agreement.

"Do you mean like this?" asked Mrs. Hughes coyly as she reached her arms up around Mr. Carson's neck, gently rubbing the skin just above his collar. He grimaced and moved his head just a little as small darts of pleasure headed south along his spine. He lay his hands lightly at her waist, pulling her gently against his chest. He could see the smug look of triumph in her eyes as he bent his head to kiss her gently on the lips. She immediately sucked his lower lip between hers and gave it a gentle nibble to let him know that she wished their kiss could be something more but she released it quickly and began to pull away.

He held her against him as he whispered in her ear, "Is that peppermint I detect?"

"I purchased a new bag in the village just to keep by the chair in my parlor," she whispered seductively before raising her voice so the girls could hear, "Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson."

"Hmm?" he murmured remembering the last time they had shared peppermints in her parlor. "Oh yes, Happy Christmas to you, Mrs. Hughes." He released her and turned to face the three young Ladies. "I think that it is just about your lunch time." He gestured for the three girls to precede him up the staircase.

"Mr. Carson?" Mrs. Hughes detained him with a hand on his arm. "I have couple of issues that will require your attention if you might be available after luncheon?" She let her hand trail down his arm and gently caressed the skin on the inside of his wrist with her fingertips.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes," he said giving her a wolfish grin, "I believe I can give you an hour of my _undivided_ attention this afternoon." She turned to walk down the hallway to her parlor.

"Happy Christmas, to me" he whispered to himself as he tore his eyes away from her gently swaying hips to finish escorting the young Ladies upstairs to lunch.

The End

 _ **A/N2: The aforementioned peppermints shared in Mrs. Hughes' parlour are direct references to Onesimus42's story "Peppermint" which can also be found on FFnet.**_


	2. 1920

_**A/N: This story was written in response to the 2012 Downton Abbey Mistletoe Challenge. It is set after Series 3 in 1920. Entered here as Chapter 2, this continues the story and sets the stage for future chapters.**_

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 **The Mistletoe Protocol - 1920**

She had gone to return one of the ledgers to his desk when she had finished checking the numbers and found him standing in her parlor upon her return. She walked over to him as he struggled to pull off the white gloves that he'd been wearing to protect his hands while they hung the garlands and swags in the rooms above stairs in preparation for the Christmas holidays.

"Damned pine tar! It gets all over everything," he grunted in frustration and held his hands out to her.

She gave his hands an affectionate squeeze before tugging at the cloth at the tips of his fingers to work his gloves loose. "Hush now, you," she murmured to him, grasping the cloth firmly and pulling the gloves off in one smooth motion. "You can grumble all you like but _I_ know it is not your heart that is speaking."

His eyes warmed for a moment as he gave her a grim smile and reached out to brush his fingertips along her jawline. "You know me too well, but it seems the rest of the house is under a pall as well."

He turned to take a seat in the chair in front of her desk while she took to her swivel chair to pour them both a cup of tea. After preparing his just the way he liked it, she slid the cup and saucer towards him with a deep sigh.

"Can you blame them," she said quietly sipping from her own cup, "Lady Sybil was the heart and soul of Christmas in this house. I don't suppose that Mary or Edith will be down this afternoon?"

Leaning back in the chair, he laced his fingers overtop of his belly and clucked at her lack of formality in not using the younger Ladies' titles. He'd left the parlor door ajar and glanced down the hallway where the watery winter sunshine danced in motes as it spilled in from the entryway to the servants' dining room.

He could still remember the first time he had stumped down those stairs when Sybil was but five years old. He holding the pine boughs carefully, under the watchful eye of Lady Mary and Lady Edith and trying hard not to laugh at their serious expressions. It was Lady Sybil who had come up with the idea of hanging it in the servants' dining room…he could still hear the sound of her small voice making the declaration, "Everybody has to come to eat here in the dining room."

Thank heavens for Elsie's quick thinking in coming up with the Mistletoe Protocol. Over the years, the small ceremony of hanging the swag and kissing each of the girls in turn beneath it, became very special to him as he watched them grow from shy, uncertain ducklings into graceful and beautiful swans. He shook his head to clear the tears that were beginning to fill his eyes.

"I very much doubt it," he said with a sigh. "Without Lady Sybil to lead them…" his voice trailed off as the softs sounds of singing began to make their way downstairs. He frowned over at her and they both stood to move towards her parlor door as the unmistakable voices of Lady Mary and Lady Edith could be heard being balanced by the dulcet tones of a tenor and baritone.

 _ **Ding dong merrily on high,  
In heav'n the bells are ringing:  
Ding dong! verily the sky  
Is riv'n with angel singing.  
Gloria, Hosanna in excelsis!**_

They walked slowly down the hallway towards the noise and met the small chorale as they arrived at the foot of the stairs.

"Good afternoon, Lady Mary, Lady Edith, Mr. Crawley, Mr. Branson," said Charles using his deepest voice to recognize each of them in turn. "Is there something you require? How may I… _we_ , be of assistance?" He nodded to Mrs. Hughes before turning to look expectantly at Lady Mary as she stood holding the infant Sybil in her arms.

"As usual, Sybil has us running late…last minute nappy change this year," she whispered the last in a loud aside, "but I hope we're not too late to observe The Mistletoe Protocol!"

Charles' mouth opened and closed several times until he felt Elsie's calming hand on the back of his elbow. "I-I apologize, your Ladyship," he stuttered for a moment, "We weren't certain whether the Protocol would be observed this year…or perhaps even retired…" His face fell at the last and he stared down at the floorboards beneath his feet.

"Edith and I discussed it and, as improbable as it may seem," she paused and looked over as Edith rolled her eyes dramatically, "we're agreed that Sybil would have wanted for us to continue. We have new family members to teach…and there will be more next year."

Elsie didn't miss the small smile of wonder on Lady Mary's face or her hand as it smoothed down over her stomach. She caught the young woman's eye, raised a questioning eyebrow at her and then grinned when she nodded her head vigorously in response.

"When?"

"Late May or early June."

Elsie looked up to find Charles frowning down at her in puzzlement.

"Mr. Crawley and her Ladyship are…oh!" Elsie suddenly covered her mouth when she realized that perhaps it was still a secret.

"It's alright Mrs. Hughes," came the voice of Matthew Crawley as he stepped up and placed his hand on Mary's shoulder. "We've told the immediate family and we'll make the official announcement for our friends at dinner tonight."

"Official announcement about _what_?" exclaimed Charles in exasperation.

"We're going to have a baby, Mr. Carson," said Matthew Crawley.

Charles gasped and looked to Lady Mary for confirmation.

"My, that is good news! It is time for something joyful to happen in this house!" Charles looked up in time to see a cloud of sadness pass over the face of Tom Branson. "I'm sorry, Mr. Branson, I didn't mean…"

"It's quite alright, Mr. Carson. It _is_ time that there was good news in this house. Sybil would have been happy for her sister, I'll be glad that little Sybbie will have a cousin her own age to play with soon." He walked down the last few steps to stand in front of Charles. "Could you tell me one thing though, Sir?"

"And what would that be, Mr. Branson?"

"What am I supposed to be doing with this pile of twigs?" he held out the swag with the mistletoe attached by a red velvet ribbon and smiled up at Charles.

Charles pursed his lips and did his best to appear stern but couldn't keep the twinkle from his eye.

"I believe that you should be holding that _pile of twigs_ out in front of you with the utmost reverence, _Mister_ Branson." Everyone laughed and then Matthew began to look around the hall.

"Where are we supposed to hang it?" he asked.

"As long as I am butler, _I_ will hang it where it has hung for the last eighteen years." Charles looked down at his hands and then smoothed them over his jacket pockets as if he were looking for something.

Lady Mary and Lady Edith exchanged knowing glances when they saw Mrs. Hughes reach surreptitiously into his trouser pocket to slip out his spare pair of white gloves and press them into his hand.

"Ah, one moment," he said as he slipped the gloves on and turned to Lady Mary expectantly. "Shall we observe the Protocol, your Ladyship?"

Mary nodded and turned to Tom who held out the swag of pine boughs and mistletoe and presented it to Mr. Carson. Charles took the swag from the former chauffeur and stepped into the archway leading to the servants' dining room. Reaching up over his head, he gently placed the swag onto the hooks where it had hung for many more years than the past eighteen they had been observing the Protocol.

When he had finished, he stood to attention and waited for Lady Mary to make the next move. Looking down into young Sybil's wide eyes, she placed the blanket wrapped bundle into Elsie's arms. Stepping over beside Charles, he smiled fondly down at her as she scuffed her shoe along the floorboard for a moment as was their custom during the Protocol.

"Happy Christmas, your Ladyship."

"Happy Christmas, Carson." She stretched up towards him as they kissed each other on the cheek.

Charles held out his hand to Lady Edith to coax her to come and stand beside him in Lady Mary's place. She had always been the shy one though she had blossomed recently into a rare beauty. Looking down into her warm brown eyes he said, "Happy Christmas, Lady Edith."

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson." She waited until after he had kissed her on the cheek before reaching up to brush a soft kiss to the side of his face.

They both turned to walk towards the rest of the group when Lady Mary's voice rang out, "Don't move, Carson!"

Looking directly at Elsie, she nodded her head toward Charles. Walking over, Elsie placed the bundle in his arms and leaned against him, both looking down as the baby smiled and reached her tiny arms up towards him.

"And yours will be the deciding kiss," Charles said hoarsely as a single tear slid down his nose.

"As was your Mother's before you," said Elsie quietly, gently rubbing the outside of his arm.

"I'll explain later," whispered Mary at the puzzled looks on both Matthew and Tom's faces. They all stood and watched as Charles leaned in and placed a small kiss on the Baby's forehead.

"Happy Christmas, Miss Sybil." He smiled as she giggled and cooed at him as if returning his Christmas wishes.

The atmosphere had become rather solemn and in an effort to return things to a more festive mood, Matthew stepped forward and stood beside Elsie.

"I think it only fair that the boys are allowed to observe the protocol as well. Mrs. Hughes, if I may be so bold?" he looked to her for approval before continuing and smiled when she nodded her agreement. "Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hughes!"

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Crawley," she returned his greetings warmly with a kiss to his cheek.

"My turn, Matthew!" said Tom brightly, not to be outdone. "Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hughes." He leaned around Matthew to place a kiss on her cheek and then he reached to take the baby from Charles.

"Yes, well…" mumbled Charles lamenting the loss of the babe in his arms. "Luncheon will be served shortly if you would like to repair to the formal dining room." He held out one arm to indicate that they should precede him up the stairs.

"Stay here, Carson, I think we can manage to find our way upstairs again," said Lady Mary with a fond smile. "Come along!" She gathered them all together with sweeping motions of her arms and shooed them up the stairs. Pausing just before the landing where they could observe the entry to the servants' dining room without being seen, Lady Edith and Lady Mary stooped down and waited.

Elsie still stood below the mistletoe and smiled warmly at Charles as he sauntered over to stand in front of her.

"That is good news about the baby, is it not? Mr. Carson," she asked.

"It is indeed, Mrs. Hughes, very good news indeed," he agreed.

They continued to stand very close to one another without touching. Elsie smirked and said, "We are still standing under the mistletoe, should we be observing the Mistletoe Protocol?"

Grinning widely he replied, "Not with two sets of prying eyes sitting on the landing of the staircase."

Still gazing into each other's eyes, they heard the groans of the two young women as they stood and walked up the stairs.

"You owe me five pounds, Mary," said Edith firmly.

"I do not, if they _weren't_ going to kiss, they would have left the hall completely," Mary's response faded as the door at the top of the stairs closed behind them.

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson," said Elsie softly.

Looking around quickly to make certain they were alone, Charles reached down to cup her cheek and draw her to him for a slow sweet kiss.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Carson!"

The End


	3. 1926

_**A/N: I've broken my own word because none of my other attempts at creating something for Christmas this year came to fruition. And so I offer up this story as my Christmas cheer for the Downton Abbey fangirls. Merry Christmas everyone and a most wonderful 2017!**_

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 **The Mistletoe Protocol - 1926**

Thomas looked up from his ledgers at the soft knock on his pantry door and an amused smile graced his lips at the muffled giggles that followed.

"Hmm, I wonder who that could be," he spoke loudly, opening the door to a cascade of bodies tumbling to the floor at his feet. The tangle of arms and legs sorted themselves into the forms of Master George, Miss Sybbie, and Miss Marigold. "And what brings you three to my pantry?"

"It's time, Mr. Bawwoah!" lisped young George Crawley holding out a large sprig of mistletoe tied to a pine bough with a bright red ribbon.

"Are you sure?" he asked, pulling his brows together and turning down the corners of his mouth into a mock frown. "Let me just check the calendar." He turned towards his desk to hide the smile that threatened to give him away. Turning back he found three small heads nodding so vigorously they might have nodded right off their shoulders if they hadn't been fastened on. "Would you look at that! You're right Master George!" The three peered very seriously at the calendar held out in front of the butler of Downton Abbey, pretending to read the block letters circled in red on today's date: MISTLETOE PROTOCOL.

A movement in the doorway caught his eye and he saw the figure of Mrs. Hughes standing in the hall fastening her coat and pulling on her gloves. She was gazing at the children, a wistful look on her face. Catching her eye, he smiled and gestured for her to join them.

Giving the young man a watery smile, she shook her head and replied, "I'm off for my half-day, Mr. Barrow. Mrs. Patmore has everything ready in the kitchen when you've finished."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. We'll see you in the morning then." He watched as she turned and walked briskly out the back door. Looking down into three eager faces, he bit his lower lip and then nodded firmly before reaching out to close the door of his pantry.

~ o O o ~

She wiped her hands on her apron after finishing the lunch dishes and went in search of her husband. He'd been a bit down in the mouth of late and she was fairly certain she knew why. This was their first Christmas since his somewhat forced retirement and he was missing the fun and excitement of preparing for the holiday.

She found him napping fitfully in the old leather chair that had followed him from the Abbey. Bending at the waist to retrieve the newspaper that had slipped from his grasp and slid to the carpet beside him, she paused to listen to a faint noise coming from the lane outside the cottage. She straightened quickly when she realized the sound was coming towards the cottage.

 _Ding dong merrily on high, in heav'n the bells are ringing;_

 _Ding dong! Verily the sky is riv'n with angel singing._

She looked down to find Charles staring up at her with bleary eyes. She shrugged as he got to his feet and they made their way towards the front door. Charles opened the door to find a chorus of three moppets singing slightly off-key on his doorstep.

 _Gloria Hosanna in excelsis!_

 _Gloria Hosanna in excelsis!_

"My word! How did you three get all the way out here?!" he exclaimed in genuine surprise. Peering around his shoulder, Elsie squeezed his elbow and pointed. Charles arched a questioning eyebrow at the figure of Thomas Barrow standing a few feet away in the swirling snow motioning for the children to turn and talk to the retired butler.

"We are hewe to obsuhve the Pwotocol," said Master George with a very serious expression on his face. Miss Sybbie held out the pine bough with the mistletoe, while Marigold shyly sucked her thumb. A breeze suddenly gusted by, causing the children to brush the snow out of their faces.

"Well, come in, come in out of the snow, children," boomed Mr. Carson, stepping back to usher them into the cottage parlour. Ever the butler, even in his own home at times, he followed in their footsteps to help the young ladies with their coats and gloves.

"You too, Mr. Barrow," said Elsie waiting for the young man to join her. "Do their parents know where they are?"

Thomas chuckled and followed her into the narrow hallway, closing the door behind him. "Yes, they are out doing a bit of last minute shopping and will stop by to pick the children up on their way home." He stopped beside Elsie standing in the arched opening to the parlor and smiled at the scene before them.

Charles sat in the middle of the settee balancing Miss Marigold on one knee, his free arm wrapped around Miss Sybbie seated beside him, and Master George was leaning against his other knee. Encouraging Marigold to lean back against his chest, he reached around her to take the pine bough from the young Lord's grasp.

"What have we here?" He turned the bough at several angles, pretending not to know what it was.

"Mistletoe!" burst forth from Marigold who then turned to hide her face in his chest.

"Oh yes, I see now. And what are you children doing with such a large sprig of the stuff?"

"We need your help, Mr. Carson," said Sybbie matter-of-factly. "This sprig isn't working and Mr. Barrow said you could help us fix it."

"He did, did he?" Charles fixed Barrow with a stern eye.

"What I said, Miss Sybbie, was that Mr. Carson was the Protocol expert and that perhaps he and Mrs. Carson could help figure out what the problem was," his voice trailed off as he turned to Elsie with a pleading look. Though skeptical of his intentions, she played along to see how the story would play out.

"What exactly seems to be the problem, young lady?" asked Elsie, pulling her chin down to her chest.

"We hung it in the servants' hall like always, but it wouldn't work."

"Mr. Bawwoah stood beside Sybbie and kissed hurw, just like Mr. Cawson did last yeaw."

"I followed the Protocol to the letter, Mr. Carson, but it just didn't feel right," said Barrow apologetically, "I was hoping that perhaps you and Mrs. Carson could show us how it should be done?"

The light dawned on Elsie and she smiled warmly, turning to point up at the archway between the hall and the parlor. "Perhaps you should show us exactly what happened? Hang the mistletoe just there, Mr. Barrow, so we can all see."

Feeling a bit nervous now that his plan was actually in motion, he reached to fasten the pine bough above his head. Turning, he held out his hand toward Sybbie and stood waiting patiently as she reluctantly pulled herself from the comfort of Charles' embrace. Taking his hand, she turned so that they were both facing into the parlor and held her cheek up so that the Thomas could kiss it.

"Ah, I think I see the problem. Eh, Mr. Carson?" asked Elsie, glancing to Charles for confirmation.

Still not quite sure what they were playing at, Charles nodded with a smile at the children and replied, "Yes, I think you might be right Mrs. Carson. Perhaps you could show us how it's done?" he replied with a skeptical smirk.

"Hmph!" she grunted softly with a roll of her eyes. "Well, the key is that the boy is supposed to surprise the girl and _catch_ her under the mistletoe. Like this, could you give me a hand, Mr. Carson?"

"I suppose," he replied grudgingly, handing Miss Marigold up to Thomas and rising with a mock groan at the effort. Elsie moved under the mistletoe and clasped her hands behind her back, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the floorboards as a very young Lady Mary had once done.

Charles stood looking up at the mistletoe for a moment and then smiled warmly at his wife before moving to stand beside her under the sprig. Slipping his arm around her waist, he turned slightly and pulled her closer. He gazed into the depths of her twinkling blue eyes, still amazed at the love that shone back at him, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

"Ewwww!" came a chorus of young voices as the three children wrinkled their noses in childish disgust.

Elsie felt Charles chuckle against her lips before pulling back with a laugh of her own.

"You don't have to kiss on the lips, only grownups who are very much in love do that," explained Charles as he gave his wife a small squeeze. "Mr. Barrow, would you like to demonstrate how the children should do it?"

"With pleasure, Mr. Carson," he replied warmly but wiped the grin from his face at the glaring frown from his elder. He moved to stand beneath the mistletoe before leaning in to kiss Elsie chastely on the cheek. "Happy Christmas, Mrs. Carson."

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Barrow," said Elsie returning the kiss.

"Your turn, Master George." Thomas moved out of the archway as George reluctantly but dutifully took his place.

"Happy Chwissmus, Missus Cawson."

"Happy Christmas, Master George." Trying to keep from laughing out loud at the boy's resigned sigh, Elsie leaned down so that he could kiss her on the cheek.

Not wanting to be left out, Sybbie piped up, "It's my turn!" Standing a few inches taller than George, she looked smugly down her nose as she huffed past him to stand expectantly in front of Mrs. Carson.

"Yes, Miss Sybbie," replied Elsie with raised eyebrow, "you may have a turn." She moved to the end of the settee to stand beside her husband and leaned into his side when his arm moved around her shoulders.

Sybbie stood with her arms across her chest as both Thomas and George kissed her on the cheek, the latter, not so surreptitiously wiping his mouth on his sleeve when he finished.

"Your turn, Mr. Carson," the young girl ran over and tugged on his free hand, pulling him under the mistletoe. Squinting one eye and craning her neck to look up at him, she ran to over to the kitchen table and began to drag a chair into the parlor.

"Allow me, Miss Sybbie," Thomas said with a formal bow, taking the chair from the girl and placing it beside Mr. Carson under the mistletoe. He held the back of the chair and watched carefully as she clambered onto the seat and leaned against the ladder-back before turning to Charles for her kiss.

Elsie was trying very hard not to laugh out loud when she felt a tug on her skirt. Looking down she found Marigold clinging to her legs and watching her cousins with wondering eyes. She lifted the child onto her hip and slowly sauntered over to where Charles was helping Miss Sybbie down from the chair.

"Charles," she said softly, placing a kiss to the child's temple when she burrowed her face into Elsie's neck. In turn, Charles leaned in and gently smoothed the child's hair before whispering, "May I have a Christmas kiss, Miss Marigold?" Turning her head slowly so that she didn't lose contact with Elsie's shoulder, Marigold fixed him with wide eyes before nodding her head slowly.

Charles held out his hands and clasped her gently to his chest when she wrapped her small arms around his neck. Walking towards the hallway, he stopped and pointed up at the mistletoe, "You've caught me under the mistletoe." His brows rose almost to his hairline in surprise when she sat up straight to look him in the eye and whisper, "Happy Christmas," before kissing him on the cheek. "Happy Christmas, lass," he chuckled and gently rubbed her back.

Just then they heard a knock and the sound of voices outside the front door. Knowing who it was, Thomas lagged behind to gather up coats and scarves as everyone headed to the front of the house. Opening the door, the Carsons were once again serenaded with Christmas carols.

 _Joy to the world, the Lord has come._

 _Let earth receive her king!_

 _Let every heart, prepare him room…_

Lady Mary broke free from the group to stand in front of Charles. Reaching into the pocket of her coat she pulled out a small sprig of mistletoe and held it over her head.

"Happy Christmas, Carson?" she asked, a smirk playing about her lips.

"The happiest, m'Lady," he said as he relinquished his hold on Marigold to his wife to kiss Mary Crawley warmly on the cheek. Helping George adjust his scarf and hat, she moved back to sing with the rest of the group.

 _Let heaven and nature sing,_

 _Let heaven and nature sing…_

Edith approached with arms open to place her hands on his shoulders before stretching up on tiptoes to kiss Charles' cheek. Turning to take her daughter, she pressed her cheek against Elsie's before saying, "Happy Christmas to both of you."

"Happy Christmas, your Lady…" Elsie paused at the reproachful look she received. Raising her own eyebrow in challenge she finished softly, "Marchioness of Hexam." Edith rolled her eyes and laughed before nodding her head in acknowledgment.

When Edith had rejoined the carolers and they finished their song, Tom Branson looked hesitantly at the Carsons and then moved quickly to stand beside Elsie. "My turn!" he exclaimed with a boyish grin.

"Now we know where Miss Sybbie gets it from," grumbled Carson, placing his large hand gently atop the girl's head when she squeezed between them to stand in front of her father.

Tom's brow furrowed with curiosity for a moment and then he turned his attention to his daughter. "Did you have a good time, sweetheart?"

Sybbie nodded vigorously before piping up with, "It works, Papa, Mr. Carson fixed it!" Tom swept his daughter up into his arms with a laugh and turned to Elsie.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Carson"

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Branson."

"Would someone please explain what's going on?" Henry Talbot exchanged a skeptical look with Bertie Pelham.

"The Mistletoe Protocol!" exclaimed the rest of the group in unison.

Bertie was listening when Marigold whispered something into his ear. Pulling back to look down at her in disbelief he repeated, "The mistletoe was broken?" His daughter nodded her head solemnly.

"I'll explain later," said Lady Mary in loud stage whisper. "The mistletoe is never hung at Downton Abbey without testing it first. It's a tradition." Bertie was still skeptical when Branson held out the now limp sprig of mistletoe to him.

"Mrs. Carson is awaitin'," said Tom with a grin, laying on his Irish accent.

Looking over at his wife who mouthed the words, "I'll make it up to you," Bertie took the sprig and walked over to kiss Mrs. Carson on the cheek.

"Happy Christmas, your Lordship," said Elsie with a shy smile.

"Happy Christmas," he returned and turned to clasp Charles' hand. "And to you, Mr. Carson." Charles shook the young Marquess' hand warmly as Henry Talbot stepped up to kiss his wife.

It had started to snow in the meantime, and soon everyone was heading towards the motorcar. Elsie watched her husband from the front step as he transformed into the Butler of Downton Abbey, helping the ladies and the children into the car. She felt someone drape a shawl over her shoulders and turned to find Thomas standing behind her.

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow," her voice full of emotion.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said innocently as he turned his collar up against the cold and pulled on his gloves.

Raising an eyebrow to let him know that _she_ knew who had instigated the entire show, she gave his forearm a meaningful squeeze before reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. "Happy Christmas, Thomas, from _both_ of us." Looking at her in mock surprise, he tipped his hat and walked out to take his place in the front seat of the car next to the chauffeur.

After several choruses of "Happy Christmas" and "Goodbye," the motorcar began to move down the lane. Turning to look out the back window, Lady Mary whispered to her husband, "Now that's how you observe the Mistletoe Protocol!"

Henry turned his head just in time to see Charles Carson gather his wife to his chest in a passionate kiss before they disappeared around a curve.


End file.
